


Easy Come Easy Go

by orphan_account



Series: underneath the rising sun [2]
Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “How to save Dillon Francis from himself. Not a question I thought I’d have to answer when I woke up this morning.”Inspired bythis songA huge thank you to the wonderfulGemmafor beta reading!





	1. Chapter 1

           Dillon shivered in the cool night air, and next to him Hugo sighed. The taller man shrugged out of his leather jacket and wrapped it around Dillon’s shoulders, hoping that Anton would arrive relatively soon so they could get into the nice, warm interior of his car. Neither man spoke, and the silence stretched awkwardly out into the neon-lit darkness.

           “What’d you take?” Hugo finally asked. Dillon shifted next to him, still shivering even though he was covered in a light sheen of sweat.

           “Didn’t ask.” Hugo’s mouth tensed to a thin line. Dillon pressed closer to his friend, trying to steal some of his body heat. Hugo wordlessly obliged.

           “You’re going to kill yourself one day.”

           It was Dillon’s turn to fall silent.

           “You’re going to kill yourself one day, and you know it.” Hugo sighed and runs a palm over his eyes. His glasses disappeared to goodness-knows-where a few hours ago and it dimly registered to Dillon that everything must have been blurry for him. Dillon couldn’t think of anything to say, so he stays quiet.

           The silver Audi pulled up by the sidewalk and Hugo must have been able to see well enough to recognize it as Anton’s, as he pulled Dillon close to him and helped him into the back seat. Dillon thankfully didn’t struggle when Hugo adjusted his position and buckled him in before making his way up to the front.

           “One of those nights, huh?” Anton asked as Hugo slammed the passenger’s side door shut.

           “You have no idea,” he responded, huffing and drawing out his phone. “He doesn’t even know what he took.” Hugo sent a quick text and dropped his phone into the cup holder before closing his eyes to keep the light from pounding in his head. The car, thankfully, had no music playing in it and was almost silent.

           “Seriously?” Anton groaned. “Now we’re going to have to watch him all night to make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep or some shit like that.” Hugo hummed in agreement, opening one of his eyes a little.

           “You have any pain killers? I can’t see a thing and my head’s killing me for it.” Anton chuckled and tossed a small bag of Motrin over to Hugo.

           “Already on it.”

           By the time Anton pulled away from the curb, Dillon was already fast asleep. “Is that okay? Should he be kept awake?” Hugo wondered, and Anton shrugged.

           “As long as he’s still breathing and he isn’t choking, he’s probably fine. We still should keep an eye on him tonight, though.” Hugo’s phone buzzed and he groaned at the noise but still checked it. “Porter says he can join in the shifts, too. Complete with a disapproving kaomoji for Dillon.”

           “Good. Maybe we’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep, then.”

           Anton brought the car up to highway speed on the entrance ramp, before merging his way to one of the commuter lanes. “We’re going to be staying with some friends because there was a heating problem at my place. It’s nothing huge, but we don’t have a furnace at the moment so we’re going to be over at the Trewarthas. Porter was on his way over there when I left.”

           “The Trewarthas?”

           “They‘re the brothers— Michael and Kyle— who make up the duo Grey. I’ve been working with them quite a bit recently and they’re super fun to be around. They always have great stories to tell.” Anton smiled, and did a quick check of his rearview mirror. “They’ll be very chill about Sleeping Beauty back there, which definitely works in our favor.”

           “That’s good,” Hugo murmured, starting to relax as his headache dissipated. They drove in silence for some miles, the bright lights of Los Angeles shattering the dark. Dillon snored quietly in the back. Eventually, when the turn signal filled the interior with its rhythmical clicking, Anton spoke.

           “We need to do something about Dillon.” His voice was soft as he tried to not wake the man asleep in the back seat.

            _“Oui._ You know how muchhe means to Porter,  _and_ he’s our friend, so we’ve got to look out for him.” Hugo stared out of the window and watched as the city lights grew farther away as Anton drove up into the hills. “The only question is how.”

           “How to save Dillon Francis from himself. Not a question I thought I’d have to answer when I woke up this morning.”

 

~~~

 

           “So this is the Sleeping Beauty?” was the first thing Hugo heard Michael Trewartha say as he stepped out of the house to help Hugo and Anton pull Dillon out of the car.

           “Yup,” Anton replied as he unbuckled Dillon and caught him before he faceplanted on the back of the seat in front of him. Dillon was still asleep and snoring contentedly. Hugo held onto Dillon once he was out of the car so Anton could pick Dillon up and sling him over his shoulder. “Hugo, this is Michael.”

           Michael extended his hand. “Michael Trewartha. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Michael was a few inches shorter than Hugo, closer to Dillon in height. His silver hair accentuated his sharp cheekbones, and all in all he was surprisingly attractive.

           They shook hands. “Hugo Leclercq. It’s very nice to meet you, too. I listened some of your new releases recently and would love to mix it into one of my sets at some point.” Michael beamed at the last part, and Hugo could already tell that they were going to get along just fine.

           “Come on, let’s get Dillon inside. He’s a sack of potatoes right now, I swear,” Anton announced, and Michael leapt up the front steps to open the door for him. Hugo followed Anton and Michael went last, and the door clicked solidly shut after him as the bolt slid into place.

           The sound of a mild commotion echoed through the house and Porter came skidding around the corner. “How’d it go? Sorry I couldn’t come see either of you!” Porter exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Hugo. When he let go of Hugo, he walked over to help Anton with Dillon, who had begun to wake up.

           “’hat’s goin’ on?”

           “Nothing you need worry about. Go back to sleep.”

           Dillon mumbled something muffled by Anton’s shoulder, and he was soon asleep again.

           “Who’s this?” a new voice asked, and Anton and Hugo turned. A young man with the same silver hair as Michael stood in the doorway to the kitchen, an apple in hand and a phone in the other.

           “Kyle, this is Dillon and Hugo. Dillon’s the one who’s out cold over there.” Kyle stepped forward to shake Hugo’s hand. He was slightly taller than Hugo, and less fined-boned than his brother.

           “Nice to meet you! I’ll meet you tomorrow morning, Dillon.” Kyle turned to Michael. “I set up one of the guest rooms for Dillon and one for the rest of you.” Porter opened his mouth to say something, but Anton beat him to it.

           “Don’t worry, they already know and they’re fine with it.”

           Porter didn’t respond at first, but Hugo did. “Thanks.” He addressed both Anton and the brothers, and all three of them smiled. Porter echoed him shortly thereafter.

           Anton elbowed Hugo in the side with his free arm and stage whispered, “Like I said. They’re very chill.”

           Michael stepped forward. “Let us help you get Dillon into his room.”

           “Thanks, man. I lost feeling in my arm a  _long_ time ago.” Anton handed Dillon over to Kyle, thankful for the return of blood to his limb. He turned to face Porter and Hugo. “I’m going to find us some food. Michael and Kyle will help you get Dillon settled, and then we can work out shifts and talk about what we’re going to do.”

           Anton wandered off towards the kitchen and Porter and Hugo followed the brothers down one of the hallways. The first door on the right was open about halfway, and Michael opened it wider so that Kyle could get through it with his cargo. “This is Dillon’s room. Your room is one more down on the left, Kyle’s is one more down on the right, and mine’s the last one on the left.” Michael watched with amusement as his brother attempted to wrestle Dillon out of Hugo’s jacket without much success. When the jacket was finally removed, Kyle leaned back to see how much else had to be removed.

           “Sleeping in jeans for one night won’t kill him.” Kyle sighed and got to work trying to get Dillon most of the way under the covers. Michael giggled as Dillon flopped around whenever Kyle tried to move him, and Porter and Hugo had to admit the sight was pretty amusing.

           “He looks like Floppy Fish,” Porter snorted, and Michael had to fight to restrain his laughter.

           “And Kyle’s the very irritated player who’s convinced the game’s rigged and can’t get a score higher than eight,” Hugo added, and Michael lost the battle.

           Ten minutes later, everybody in the house besides Dillon had gathered in the kitchen. Hugo and Porter had pulled stools up to the counter, Kyle and Anton stood by it, and Michael leaned against it.

           Nobody really wanted to discuss Dillon, but they all knew something had to change— even the brothers. After all, how many times had one of their idols arrived at their house slung over their mentor’s shoulder and fast asleep? Not very often.

           It was Porter who spoke first. “We have to do something about Dillon, but we can determine shifts first so that if something happens to him we know right away.”

           “I can take the first shift.” Surprisingly enough, it was Kyle who volunteered to go first. “I already had to wrestle him into bed. I can take this first shift.” He drummed his fingernails against the stone, creating a rhythmical tapping as he glanced over at the clock. “I’ll go from now— approximately 1:30— to 2.”

           “I’ll take the second,” Michael offered. “2 to 3:30.”

           Hugo shrugged and volunteered next. “I can go 3:30 to 5.”

           Anton and Porter looked at each other. “I’ll do 5 to 6:30,” Anton decided, and that left the last for Porter.

           “And I can cover 6:30 until 8.”

           Once the slots were decided, awkward silence descended again. “We should go,” Michael told Kyle, and the two brothers bid the others good night and exited the room, leaving Porter, Hugo, and Anton gathered around the island.

           Hugo pulled Porter in for a tight hug, exchanging a few silent words with Anton across the island. “We know how you feel about Dillon, Porter.” Hugo murmured, his voice soft in the quiet house.

           Porter stiffened. “You’re not mad?” He asked, not quite daring to be hopeful.

           “Not at all,  _chéri.”_  As Hugo responded,Anton walked around the end of the island and wrapped his arms around Porter, interlacing his fingers with Hugo’s.

           “In fact, we were going to tell you the same but you beat us to it.” Porter visibly relaxed with Anton’s words, tension leaving him in a wave. “We most definitely have room for one more.”  
  


           Anton finally let go of Porter, but Porter refused to let go of Hugo and remained plastered up against the taller man. “We still need to decide what to _do,”_ Porter sighed, and Hugo ruffled his hair.  
  


           “Let me think about it tonight, _mon colibri_. I’ll have something for you in the morning.”  
  


           “Promise?”  
  


           “Promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Porter started his shift watching over Dillon, Hugo had come up with a plan of action.
> 
> Once again, a huge thank you to [Gemma!](http://hleclercq.tumblr.com/)  
> Translations are at the end as per usual.

           By the time Porter started his shift watching over Dillon, Hugo had come up with a plan of action and run it through with Porter and Anton. When Dillon finally woke, the cycles had repeated and Kyle was keeping watch.

           “Good, you’re awake. I’m going to go tell your friends that you’re alive. They’ll be glad to hear it.” Dillon blinked at Kyle, not really recognizing him. The door slammed shut as Kyle made his exit, and Dillon winced at the noise. Kyle leaned his head back in. “Sorry about that,” he whispered and shut the door much more quietly the second time.

           There were a few quiet voices outside the room before the door swung open and Porter stepped in. “Morning, Dillon!” Porter grinned at Dillon but thankfully kept his voice low.

           “Morning. What time is it?”

           “It’s about 9, so not too late.” The bed dipped as Porter sat down on the end of it, and Hugo and Anton entered the room.

           “Hey!” Anton piped up, sitting down next to Porter. “Michael went out early this morning so there’s donuts in the kitchen if you want them.”

           Dillon honestly couldn’t argue with that, so he struggled with the sheets and managed to extricate himself from them. “Well, you certainly know how to bribe me.” Dillon watched Hugo picked up his leather jacket from where it had been slung across the back of a chair and shake it out. “Wait, who’s Michael?”

           “Michael and Kyle are the guys who own the house we’re in right now. The heating at Anton’s place is broken.” 

           “Ah.” Dillon stood and smoothed some of the wrinkles in his shirt. “Grey, right?”

           “Yup, they’re the Grey bros. Rather aptly named, given the color of their hair.” Anton got off the bed and walked over to the door. “This way to the food!”

           “He has a one track mind, I swear,” Hugo laughed and Anton mock-glared at him. “But come on, we have to get going.” 

           “Why? Are we going somewhere?”

           Porter smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

            “Yes!”

           Porter’s delighted laughter followed them up the hallway to the kitchen. 

~~~

           “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Dillon asked from his position by the bathroom door. He scrolled idly through social media while Hugo stood in front of the mirror and worked on taming his hair.

            _“Pas encore,”_ Hugo replied for what was getting close to the double digits.

           “Seriously? I don’t even know what you’re saying.”

           Anton decided to take pity on him and translate. “He says ‘not yet.’”

           “Great.”

           Porter wandered over and Hugo moved so he’d be able to see the mirror. “Thanks, Hugo.” Anton met Porter’s eyes in the glass and Porter knew it was time. “Fucking chokers, I swear to God.”

           The phone hit the floor at the same time as Dillon’s jaw hit the floor. “What.”

          Porter watched the reflection of Dillon as he finished attaching the clasps on the back of the fabric choker. It was a reflective silver material and relatively thin, but it had obviously achieved the desired effect. “What?” Porter mimicked as Dillon sputtered for air. “Is it on straight?” This was directed at Hugo.

          “It’s about as straight as you are,” Hugo responded. Porter raised an eyebrow as Anton stuck his tongue out at him.

          “You’re wearing a choker.” Dillon still hadn’t moved from his earlier position.

          “Yes, I’m wearing a choker.” Hugo chuckled as Porter straightened out the fabric. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 _“No!”_ Dillon’s response was so immediate that even he jumped a little in surprise as it echoed off the bathroom walls.

          “Good,” Porter said, and he honestly meant it. So far, everything was going to plan.

          Michael gave an appreciative whistle when Porter stepped into the entranceway. _“Nice!_ Where’d you find it?”

          “Thanks! A fan gave it to me— I can ask her where she got it for you.”

          “That’d be great! It’s gorgeous.”

          Hugo and Anton walked into the room, and Dillon trailed a little ways after them. “We’ll be back for dinner!” Hugo reminded the brothers, who each gave him a thumbs up.

          “Sounds good! Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

          Anton rolled his eyes and snorted. “Like there’s _anything_ you wouldn’t do.”

          “That’s true. But you get our point.”

           _“Bye,_ Michael.”

          The door shut firmly after the four. “Don’t listen to them,” Anton instructed as Porter climbed into the driver’s seat of the Audi. “And don’t you _dare_ crash my car, Robinson.”

           “I won’t! I’ll be careful with it!” Anton rolled his eyes, but it lacked venom. Porter folded the top of the convertible down and Hugo swung himself into the back seat. “You can sit up here with me,” Porter invited, and Dillon sat down shotgun. Porter plugged his phone into the car connection cable and the last song began playing.

            “For fuck’s sake, we’re _not_ listening to Kero Kero Bonito **again.”** Anton’s expression was absolutely murderous.

          “Why not? They’re good.”

          “I have to agree with Porter on this one. _Je suis désolé, Anton.”_  

          “Oh, come on! Dillon, it’s up you now.”

            Dillon’s eyes widened. “.... I have nothing against them,” he hesitantly supplied. Porter whooped and threw a fist in the air. Anton peered around the seat to glare at the two up front.

             _“Betrayal!”_ He hissed before he broke into a wide smile. “You know, flustered is a good look on you, Dillon. I wonder what else can make you look like that.”

            “Anton!”

            Hugo elbowed him hard in the side and Anton fell back into his seat, cackling madly. Dillon was pretty sure that his face was bright red.

            It was a surprisingly clear day in the city, with the typical smog coloring the sky yellow less than usual. Porter took the car down out of the hills, and Dillon was actually able to watch this time as Los Angeles rose up to meet them. They headed back into the city proper and drove towards the glittering skyscrapers of Downtown. “I’m not going ask this time, but can you answer yet?”

            Anton mentally reminded himself to not go on road trips with Dillon. “Sorry, Dillon. You’ll figure it out once we’re there, though, if that makes you feel any better.”

            There were surprisingly few cars on the road, at least for Los Angeles, and they hadn’t seen any police cars, so Porter turned to ask Anton a question.

            “Go ahead,” Anton grinned. “Scare the pants off of Dillon.”

            Porter readjusted his grip on the wheel and changed to a more open lane. “You ready?” He asked Dillon, who looked at him suspiciously.

            “For what?” Dillon practically squeaked back.

            “This!” Porter shouted as he floored it. The sudden growl of the Audi’s engine was almost enough to mask Dillon’s terrified screams. There were matching whoops from the back seat as the car accelerated.

             _“Holy_ _shit, Porter!”_ Dillon’s knuckles were white where he gripped the seat. “Are you trying to kill us?”

            Porter threw his head back and laughed, the choker around his neck flashing brightly in the sunlight. The scenery blurred outside the car windows as Porter guided the car from lane to lane, dodging the other cars on the road. He eventually slowed back down to the proper highway speed so they could get off at the correct exit, and Dillon’s breathing gradually returned to normal.

            “You’re the worst!” Dillon fumed, so Porter accelerated sharply again just to bug him.

            When they finally pulled up outside their destination, Porter had surprisingly enough not gotten a ticket. “Dumb luck,” Dillon huffed, but his expression was more than a little bit of awe.

            “Nice driving!” Anton gave Porter a fistbump. “I’m so proud!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek.

            “Shut _up.”_ Porter turned away and pulled the roof up.

            Hugo slung an arm across Dillon’s shoulder so that he could whisper in Dillon’s ear. “Making him blush is almost as fun as making _you_ blush.” Hugo suddenly leaned back, sending Dillon’s world spinning. “So now do you know where we are?”

            Dillon took a quick look around. “Yeah, I know this place. But.… why are we here?”

            “We’re going shopping. That’s what one generally _does_ at shopping malls, right?”

            “Uh… yeah.”

            “So come on then!” Part of Dillon’s mind told him that Porter and the others were planning something, but when Porter stretched out his hand Dillon didn’t hesitate _. It was just a shopping mall, after all,_ he thought.

            Hand in hand, they entered the building where Dillon’s life would be tilted on its axis.

   


**1\. “Je suis désolé, Anton” = “I’m sorry, Anton”**   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know where to find me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'I know you’re planning something.' Dillon paused. 'I just don’t know what it is yet. But I have a feeling I’m going to find out soon.'”
> 
> And it's finally time for the chapter all of you have been so patiently waiting for! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Go give [Gemma](http://hleclercq.tumblr.com/) a hug because she's seriously the best!

           Porter let go of Dillon’s hand as soon as they stepped through the door. He didn’t really want to deal with curious fans or paparazzi, so it was probably better to not attract more attention than they already would. Hugo and Anton waited for them next to the map, and Hugo appeared to be arguing with Anton about something and making dramatic hand gestures. Dillon wasn’t able to pick up the topic of their argument, though, as both quieted when he and Porter approached.

           “Where are we headed first?” Porter asked.

           “Anton really wants to find a replacement shirt for the one Ichi killed,” Hugo announced, and Dillon didn’t miss the flash of relief that crossed Anton’s face.

          “Who’s Ichi?”

           “He’s Michael’s kitten. Most of the time he’s well behaved, but he seriously did a number on Anton’s favorite plaid shirt.”

           Anton shook his head fondly. “He’s super cute, but I don’t know why he hated that one shirt so much.”

            _“He wasn’t the only one,”_ Hugo stage-whispered, and both Dillon and Porter laughed while Anton ran a hand over his eyes.

           “Come on guys. You can bash my fashion sense _after_ I find a shirt.”

           An hour later, Anton had a paper bag in one hand, a new, better-received plaid shirt, and three irritated friends.

           “I can’t believe it took you that long to find a shirt, Anton,” Dillon laughed.

           “I’ve got an image to keep!” Anton joked, and Porter and Hugo snorted in unison. A group of teenage girls watched as they walked by, trying to take pictures without them noticing. They noticed, of course, but didn’t say anything.

           “Can we get tea?” Porter asked when they walked by a boba place.

           Dillon shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he replied, and the group found an empty table. Porter took requests and went off to take orders, leaving the other three sitting in silence.

           “I know you’re planning something.” Dillon paused. “I just don’t know what it is yet. But I have a feeling I’m going to find out soon.” Hugo and Anton exchanged a glance.

           “You’ll find out when we’re ready for you to find out.” Thinking back on it, that was probably one of the worst things Anton could have said, but say it he did. Dillon opened his mouth to say something most likely not very pleasant in response but was interrupted by Porter’s return.

           “Tea for everybody!” Porter piped up, dropping the four drinks onto the center of the table to be claimed. Nobody moved. “What? Did something happen while I was gone?”

           “Nope!”

           “Non!”

            _“Absolutely!”_

           Dillon glared at Anton and Hugo and turned to face Porter. “You guys have a plan, and I don’t know what you’re getting at. Can _somebody_ please tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

           The seating area fell completely silent. Dillon’s shouting had grabbed the attention of the other patrons, and all their eyes were now on him and his friends.

           Hugo sighed. “We’ll have to find a different location to have this discussion.” He picked up the teas and headed off towards a different corner of the mall. Porter, Anton, and Dillon followed him like a set of very dejected but still somewhat angry ducklings.

           A bench long enough for the four of them to sit on caught Hugo’s eye, and he guided the others over to it. Dillon sat down next to Hugo in the spot the farthest away from Anton he could possibly find. Porter sat down in the remaining spot in between Hugo and Anton.

           Hugo glanced over towards Dillon. “Alright, Dillon. You have something to say.”

         “Damn right I do.” Dillon stabbed his straw through the drink’s seal. He didn’t look at any of the others when he resumed speaking. “Since I woke up this morning all of you have done nothing but mess with me. And I don’t know what game you’re playing— I still don’t— but I want you to stop.”

           Hugo was suddenly thankful he’d instinctively picked a relatively quiet part of the shopping center for this conversation because when Porter spoke his voice wavered dangerously. “We really fucked this up, didn’t we.”

           Dillon finally looked up, and none of them had ever seen their friend this upset before. “Yes you fucking did.” Porter heaved a breath in, blinking frantically to try and keep from bursting into tears.

          “Can we be civil for a of couple minutes so that Dillon can get some answers?” Dillon fell back against the back of the bench, chasing around some of the boba at the bottom of his tea. Anton wrapped an arm around Porter and pulled him tight, making small shushing noises. Hugo pressed his fingers against his temple to try and ward off the incoming headache. Today was _seriously_ not going to plan.

           There was silence— well, almost silence— for a little while before Dillon spoke. “What _were_ you trying to accomplish?” he asked. Now that Dillon was a little less furious he was beginning to become curious.

           Porter knew he’d have to be the one to explain, so he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sat up a little straighter. “It was my fault.” All three heads turned to look at him. “It was my fault. I knew it was stupid at the time because I already had it all. We had a great friendship, and now I’ve gone and ruined it because I was stupid and got attached.” Porter fell silent and ran a finger along the circumference of the seal of his drink.

           “You…. got attached.” Dillon looked over at Porter. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Porter, are you trying to say that you _like_ me?”

           “That makes it sound like we’re sixth grade girls,” Anton snickered. Porter tried to disappear behind his hands. “But that’s exactly right.”

           Surprisingly enough, Dillon started laughing. _“Oh my god._ So _that’s_ why all of you have been hitting on me today! I thought you guys were joking!”

           “Not joking, no.”

           “So…. just because Porter has a thing for me, you’re going to let me in on this just like that?” Dillon’s brows creased. “That sounds a touch quick.”

           Hugo swallowed hard. “Well, you see, we were actually going to tell Porter the same thing when he told _us._ So….”

           Dillon thought that he should probably have stopped being surprised by now, but surprised he was. “Seriously? All three of you?”

           Anton had to lean around Porter and Hugo to be able to see Dillon’s expression. “Yup, all three of us.”

           “Shit, I must have done _something_ right in a past life!”

           Hugo smiled and stood, reaching out to help Dillon up. “Indeed you did,” he said, ruffling Dillon’s hair.

          Porter stood about a foot behind Hugo, still looking slightly nervous. “Dillon…. are we good?” he asked, not really ready to hear the answer but still having to ask anyways.

          “We’re good, Porter.” Anton and Hugo watched fondly as Dillon opened his arms and pulled Porter in for a hug.

          “Do you think Michael and Kyle will be pissed if we come back a little early?”

          Anton shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think they’ll care as long as we tell them to ignore us.”

          “Well then.” Hugo turned to face Anton, a wide smirk beginning to spread across his face. He made a quick motion over towards where Porter and Dillon had already disappeared, and started heading back through the mall. “Bet you 50 bucks you end up driving.”

           “Why’s that?”

           Hugo chuckled. “Do you really think they’ll be able to keep their hands off each other now?”

~~~

           By the time the car doors slammed shut behind Anton and Hugo, Porter was already straddling Dillon’s lap, kissing him hard. Dillon wrapped his arms around him and ran a few fingers along the length of the silver choker, making Porter shiver. When they broke apart for air, Anton reached around and tapped Porter on the shoulder.

           “Seatbelt, Porter.”

           Porter whined, turning to Anton with pleading eyes. “Do I _have_ to?”

           Anton raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Seatbelt.” Porter huffed and reluctantly climbed off Dillon, buckling himself in.

           “Happy now?”

           “Yes. I’m going to drive now, so don’t fall over.” Anton backed the car out of the parking spot and pulled out into traffic, mentally calculating the fastest route back into the hills. He took a quick glance in his rearview mirror and saw that Porter was already twisted around and kissing Dillon again.

          Anton met Hugo’s gaze and mouthed _I’m sorry about earlier._ Hugo gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed _It’s good_ back. Both of them hated fighting.

          Hugo turned to say something to the lovebirds in the back seat but ended up being grabbed by Porter and reeled in for a kiss. _“Merde!_ Ow— Porter, give me a sec. The console’s trying to kill me.” Porter reluctantly let Hugo go so he could find a way to avoid having the console in the way. Once Hugo had repositioned, both of them became quite busy again. If Anton started driving a little faster, none of the passengers noticed.

          They did notice, however, when Anton suddenly slammed on the breaks. Hugo was slammed down onto the rather evil console; Dillon gasped as the air was stolen from his lungs; and Porter toppled forward and made a displeased noise when his seatbelt locked, but he managed to catch himself before his nose smacked the seat in front of him.

_“Putain!”_

          “Shit!”

          “Fucking _hell,_ Anton!”

          “Sorry guys— police car up ahead.”

          “How fast were you going to have to break like that?” Dillon asked suspiciously, rubbing at his shoulder where the belt had pressed into him.

          Anton looked slightly sheepish. “About 80? Maybe a _few_ miles an hour over.…” Dillon squeaked slightly while the others appeared more amused than anything else. “I wanted to get back, okay?”

          “We definitely understand,” Porter agreed, watching where Hugo had _somehow_ managed to get far enough around the seat to be able to kiss Dillon. “But if you get us pulled over **_now_ ** you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

          Anton watched his speed much more carefully after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! As per usual, I'm icarushugo over on Tumblr.  
> In other news, this is the first fic for Grey! Super excited.


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